


The Haunted Mansion

by EmiKougamine



Category: HetaOni, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, Halloween, Horror, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 23:43:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21217004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmiKougamine/pseuds/EmiKougamine
Summary: What started out as a fun adventure quickly turns into a horrifying nighmare when a group of travellers become trapped in an abandoned mansion. As time and sanity begins to run out, it becomes a race for survival against the horror lurking within.





	The Haunted Mansion

**Author's Note:**

> Another Halloween fic, this one inspired by fan-made game Hetaoni. If you haven't played it, mild spoiler warning for events in the game, so read at your own risk. Otherwise, enjoy :)

_How did it come to this?_

That was all I could think as I stared in horror at the shape. The…_thing_ in front of me, slowly advancing down the pitch-black hall. My insides were frozen in terror, my lungs gulping down shallow breaths that did nothing to bring much-needed oxygen to my numbed limbs.

_This is it. This is how it ends. _

I raised my hands to cover my face in a final, futile attempt to block out the horrible sight, still vividly etched in my mind. The sticky red liquid covering them felt like an accusation, an all-too tangible reminder of my actions. My weakness. My _cowardice_. One by one, my friends had succumbed to the nightmare, leaving me alone in my grief and anguish. Unable to help them, unable to do anything but relive their deaths over and over again in my mind as I, too, waited for the inevitable.

My mind began wandering even as my death was fast approaching. Maybe it was my mind’s way of providing a means of escape, however imaginary; maybe it was a subconscious acceptance of the reality of the situation. Or maybe it was my usual inability to concentrate on the task at hand, no matter how serious it was. In any case, I began replaying the events leading up to this day, before it all went so disastrously wrong.

We’d been on a walk, four of us, and lost track of time, as well as our sense of direction. It was growing cold, dark and starting to rain, and we were desperately looking for somewhere to spend the night. We’d almost resolved to camp out in the wilderness like we used to when we were younger, when, quite by accident, we stumbled across a large mansion in the middle of nowhere. Vaguely, we remembered hearing rumours about a place like this one, supposedly it was haunted or something, but none of us paid it much thought. All we cared about was that the lights were on and the door was open. It was more than large enough to shelter all of us, it looked well-kept, and most of all, it was _warm. _

Of course, it was my big mouth that suggested we go inside.

“What harm can it do? Besides, we’re already here, it’d be a waste to find somewhere else to stay! Come on, let’s go inside!”

One of us, the tallest in the group and self-appointed leader, voiced his suspicions about staying in some strange house miles from any other kind of civilisation, but his concerns were brushed aside by his more adventurous older brother. The last in our group held similar reservations, but he was overruled in favour of the prospect of a good night’s sleep out of the cold and wet. Hopefully there’d be some food inside the mansion, or at least a means to dry our clothes and bodies.

OK, so we couldn’t see anyone in any of the rooms even though the lights were on, but maybe the owners were just out at the moment and had forgotten to lock the door? Or maybe it was a holiday home, some kind of waystation for weary travellers such as us.

So we headed in, heedless of the voice of reason that warned against entering a stranger’s house in the wilderness, the possibility of ending up like the plot of a badly-made horror movie. After all, that only happens in fiction, not real life. And besides, we were perfectly capable of looking after ourselves, weren’t we? We’d proved that many times over the years.

How wrong we were.

At first, everything was fine. The beds were clean, there were plenty of baths with nice hot water and there was even some food in the kitchen and storage room. There still didn’t seem to be anyone around, but there weren’t any cars or anything in the driveway either, so we decided that the owners probably were out at the moment, after all. We left a note on the kitchen table anyway, explaining who we were and why we were there, and even offering to pay for our uninvited stay, if necessary.

We spent the rest of the evening getting warm and dry, then went to bed early, knowing we’d probably have an early start in the morning to get back home.

When morning came, however, our plans went out the window. Almost literally, in fact, as we found ourselves trapped. The doors and windows were locked, and there was no other way out. At first, we thought it was simply stuck; perhaps the hinges had become rusty with the rain, or the wood had warped slightly, making the door unable to open. But as time went on, it became clear that the door was sealed, and not by natural means. For what reason, we didn’t know.

We debated what to do for a while, but were interrupted by the sound of a plate shattering in one of the rooms.

“Woah, what was that?”

“I don’t know, it sounded scary!”

“I will go and investigate. The three of you, please remain here.”

Oddly, it was the most reserved member of our group who went off to investigate the noise. We waited for him to come back, but after the minutes passed with no sign of him, we decided to split up and go in search of him ourselves.

While we were searching, some of our friends arrived at the mansion too; how they got in when the door had been locked for us, we didn’t know, but it remained shut once they were indoors as well. And once we were all inside, things only got weirder.

We kept seeing things from the corner of our eyes, vague shapes that flitted and wavered like heat in the air, but when you turned your head to look there was nothing there. Things became misplaced or simply went missing altogether, only to turn up somewhere completely unexpected. Strange noises sounded at irregular times, but when you went to check out what caused it or where it was coming from, nothing was amiss. We began to feel like we were being watched by some unseen presence, that something was following our footsteps and keeping track.

Paranoia set in, and we began the slow descent into madness. Gradually, we began to accuse one another, blaming anyone but ourselves for the mess we were in. Irrational arguments and petty fights sprung up out of nowhere until the leaders of our group, the authoritative figures who were used to command, stepped in to sort things out.

“So immature.”

“Guys, fighting’s not cool, you know?”

“Pack it in, the lot of you, I’m trying to think!”

For a few days, we worked together, discovering more about the mansion we were trapped in and how we could possibly hope to get out. Naturally, we had tried smashing the windows early on, but they were either made of impenetrable, bullet-proof glass or something or were too high to feasibly jump out of.

We discovered a few things in different rooms, some that could be useful, some that were just decoration or furniture – a whip, a wok, a shard of glass from a broken mirror. Some torches; they were sure to come in handy, and had caused a renewed sense of hope when we discovered them. In one room there was a full sized grand piano which, while it did nothing to help solve our predicament, at least provided a way to take our minds off it briefly while the most musical of us played in the evening.

During those days, we settled into a routine. Wake up, explore, eat, talk progress (or lack of it), explore, eat, gather to ‘relax’ (or try to anyway), sleep. One of our group even went so far as to try using magic to get us out, not that it did him, or any of us, any good.

Things came to a head about a week later. We were gathered as usual after dinner, and I was explaining my recent discovery. The one that shed light onto our disastrous situation and explained what was going on. I’d found a journal in the library that detailed similar events to what was happening to us – a group of travellers found themselves locked in the mansion, and spooky phenomena plagued them while they explored the rooms and tried to find a way out.

Using the entries, we managed to avoid a series of what could otherwise have been very nasty, possibly even fatal, accidents. We learnt more about the mansion, its’ history, and its’ victims. It was indeed haunted, by a mysterious being only referred to as ‘the monster’. If it had a name, no-one knew it, or at least had not had the time to write it down.

That was something else that we found weird in the mansion – the passage of time. Events sometimes seemed to repeat themselves in uncanny ways. People found themselves doing the same thing over and over again, or felt a strong sense of déjà vu when they went in certain rooms. 

And I knew the reason, though I didn’t tell them why. How could I? They’d think I’d gone completely mad, that the atmosphere of the mansion had got to me. It was all in the journal, black and white – and occasionally red – on the pages. We were stuck in a time loop, reliving the same events over and over until we either managed to escape or were killed by the crazed inhabitant of the house of horror. And it seemed the latter happened far more frequently than the former, according to the writing. _My_ writing. Because it was my own hand that had written the notes detailing the mansion’s past, meticulously recording each new discovery, each addition to the groups inside, and each and every death.

I almost broke down there and then as my eyes scanned the pages in growing horror. For whatever reason, it seemed I and I alone was the sole survivor to the monster’s murderous rampage. One by one, it had picked off my friends again and again, leaving me to deal with their deaths. One some occasions, however, when the cycle reset itself and left us back at the beginning again, it seemed that most, if not all of my friends, survived, but this time _I _was the one who died. Apparently, there was no exception to this rule: either I lived and my friends were killed, or my sacrifice ensured their lives were spared.

Naturally, I was terrified. I didn’t want my friends to die; I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing their lifeless bodies and glazed eyes, but at the same time the notion of my own death horrified me. I was a coward, everyone knew that, and the strength to watch the ones I loved die in front of me, knowing I was the one who caused their deaths, was not something I possessed. But neither could I take the easy way out, because to die by your own hand to ensure others would live required even more will than I could summon.

However, I resolved to confide in my most trusted friend, the one I loved the most. Not my brother, he would only scoff and say that my flighty imagination had finally got the best of me. No, I would tell the man I trusted with my life, as well as my heart. He would believe me.

As it turned out, though, I never got the chance. As we were leaving after dinner, the lights suddenly went out, plunging us into darkness. Shrieks of dismay and terror sounded throughout the rooms until our fumbling hands managed to find the torches and switch them on. We gathered again, and the leaders sternly told us to pull ourselves together.

“It’s only a power cut, nothing to worry about. The electricity will come back on soon enough, so stop panicking like frightened schoolgirls.”

“Y-yeah, nothing to worry about, guys! It’s all good!”

“Ah, perhaps you are right. I’m sure we will feel better after a good night’s sleep, yes? Since it is already dark, we may as well head to bed”

“Good idea. But be careful, we don’t want any accidents from not looking where you’re going.”

But as we were going to leave, they appeared. The shapes we’d been seeing all this time began drifting into the room, pale forms wavering as though seen through water. Human in form, but we knew better. Their eerie silence as they came closer and closer only served to reinforce their ghostly demeanour. Because ghosts they certainly were. One glimpse and we could see their terrible half-formed features, so like our own.

There is nothing so terrifying as looking at a something that is almost, but not quite, yourself. If you have ever looked in a mirror in the dark and thought that the reflection seemed a little off, you will know the feeling we felt that night, only a thousand times worse.

Of course, as soon as we realised what the things were – echoes of our past selves, warning us to get out or trying to hasten our demise – panic blossomed in our chests. Screams of horror and fright echoed as we dashed along the corridors and up the stairs, desperate to get away from the things as they continued to give chase. The screams turned even more frantic as bodies collided in the dark, arms clutching each other in a vain attempt at reassurance.

And then _it _appeared.

“What is that?!”

“It’s not real...it can’t be real…this isn’t happening!”

“Make it stop, please just make it stop!”

“It’s not human, oh God it looks human but it’s not…what does it _want_?!”

“Go away, _go away, _GO AWAY!”

Our screams overlapped in a frenetic jumble of voices and shouts. Defiance, anger, fear and pain preceded the monster’s wake, leaving only silence in its’ stead. Terror overcame me at the thought of repeating the events in the journal, becoming just another entry myself as the monster continued to kill my friends.

And now, here I was, covered in the blood of those I held most dear, unable to prevent their deaths and facing the very real prospect of my own in the face. A face that was set in an unnervingly placid expression, the huge eyes protruding above a flat nose and wide, lipless mouth. The head was far too big for the body, and the stumpy arms and legs and rotund stomach seemed incapable of producing the speed the creature was capable of. It reminded me of the greys in old science fiction movies, when space travel and distant planets were at once unfathomably far away and intriguingly close, and the media was rife with stories of aliens, spaceships and UFOs. 

Irrationally, I fought the urge to laugh. Here I was about to meet the same fate as my friends, and all I could think of was that the monster about to kill me looked like a bad movie prop. Shouldn’t I feel more…well, scared? Angry? Regretful? After all, if I had told everyone the truth sooner, maybe we would have been able to avoid this whole thing. Actually, if I hadn’t suggested going into the mansion in the first place, none of this would have happened.

Maybe I deserved to die. Maybe it was fitting that I was the last one left, that the one responsible for all this was the last one standing to face the full extent of what I’d done. It would be redemption, in a way, and maybe my action would serve as a warning to the next person, or persons, unlucky enough to set foot in the mansion.

With that thought, I lowered my hands and faced the monster head on. If I was going to die, I would die by my own terms. I would not be a coward any longer. I would accept my fate with dignity and pride. And as the monster’s cold, clammy grey hands wrapped around my neck, one thought swirled around my head.

_Goodbye, everyone. I hope I see you soon, and that you can manage to forgive me, somehow…_

Closing my eyes, I let death take me.

* * *

You didn’t really think it ended there, did you?

* * *

Feliciano sat bolt upright in bed, panting and gasping. He was covered in a light sheen of sweat, despite the chill of the crisp autumn air. What a horrible dream! He knew he should have listened to Ludwig’s advice and not watch Gil while he played the game Kiku had lent him. He really had no head for horror, and the scary games the Japanese invented terrified him, even the milder ones. He was like Alfred in that respect, however much Arthur scorned him for it. So much for being a hero. 

The little Italian’s whimpers had woken the German sleeping at his side. Ludwig rolled over and peered at his boyfriend, his irritation at being disturbed softening into fond tenderness when he saw how Feli was trembling.

“What is it? Did you have a bad dream?” he asked, voice gruff with sleep but still gentle.

Feliciano nodded, his eyes wide open for once as he shook off the vestiges of the nightmare.

“S-sí” he answered timidly. “We were in this huge mansion, and a scary creature was chasing us and we tried to run away but it caught us and I was the only one left and I thought it was going to kill me but I woke up before it could and…and…I’m very glad you’re not dead, Ludwig.” The words came out in a rush as Feliciano babbled on, feeling a little foolish as the terror of the nightmare began to fade.

Ludwig rolled his eyes as the smaller man finished speaking.

“_Verdammt_, I knew I shouldn’t have let Gilbert play that game while you were around,” he muttered to himself before speaking a little louder. “It’s alright, _Liebling_, you’re safe now. It was just a dream, no-one’s going to hurt you. I’m here.”

He held up the covers as Feliciano lay back down, reassured by the German’s words, then tucked them around their bodies as the Italian snuggled into his broad chest. Ludwig stroked his boyfriend’s soft auburn hair, careful to avoid the sensitive curl on the side of his head, until the Italian’s thumping heartbeat calmed down and his breaths evened out into peaceful sleep once again. He’d be sure to scold Gilbert in the morning for scaring Feliciano like that, but for now, he too, succumbed to sleep, secure in the knowledge that the two of them were perfectly safe, sound and happy resting in each other’s arms. 


End file.
